Revenge is a Sweet Thing
by CommaKrazy
Summary: Harry Potter is a boy, thrust into the magical world of France, shortly after murdering his relatives. The fact that he can wield lightening had something to do with that! Harry meets a girl with a situation similar to his and together, they go on the run. - Harry is two years older than in Canon, Dark, Vengeful and Secretive. Harry @ Beauxbatons, Quidditch and Teen Banter :)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**(Edit: just edited some dates)**

**Hey Guys :) This is the first chapter of my first Harry Potter fanfic series. I'm really excited for this one. However, i may take a while to update as things are getting a little...eventful in my life so all reviews will help speed up the process. So please, please review with ideas!**

**Also, i know that this chapter was written in a rather shitty way, but i would appreciate it, if anyone could help me with that?**

**First off, Harry is two years older than in Canon. (BORN IN 1978)**  
**Secondly, Harry is a veela. Basicaly, when his Mum protected him from Voldemort with the blood ward, she passed on her ability as a veela (which I made up) thus making Harry the first Male veela in over a Millennia.**  
**Thirdly, Beauxbatons will be an all-girls school, throughout this story, as it fits in with the story line.**  
**Fourthly, Harry MAY or MAY NOT have extra powers (eg. Metamorphmagus, elementalist).**  
**Fifthly, Harry will become slightly dark due to the abuse from the Dursley's. And will become a pyromaniac (lightning as a preference).  
Sixthly, This story is Harry/Fleur but any other pairings before and after that are welcome.  
**

Revenge,  
Revenge, is the action of inflicting hurt or harm on someone for a wrong suffered at their hands.  
Revenge, is what 10 year old Harry Potter believes is his to use.  
Revenge, is not tossed around, it is dealt.  
Revenge, is the reason young Harry is standing over the crispy and dead bodies of his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin.

Prologue

Nearly 10 years had passed since the fateful Halloween night of 1979, in which Harry Potter was dropped (not physically) on the doorstep of the Dursley's family home. 10 years since Harry had been into any contact with magic and 10 years since his Mother and Father were brutally murdered by a rampant Magician. The latter two of which were oblivious to Harry, as unlike his Mother and Father, his Aunt and Uncle were not magicians.

They did not affiliate themselves with anything to do with it. In fact they rather despised Harry and his heritage. Harry was beaten daily and regularly called a freak, due to the supposed 'grief' that his mother had caused her sister, Harry's Aunt Petunia.

The regular beatings had been brought onto Harry from a young age and had caused a change in his beliefs of the world. He had been turned from a quiet gentle boy, into a hardened pyromaniac that wanted nothing but to see people hurt. The regular beatings had also taken its toll on Harry's physical appearance and had made Harry's skin almost immune to the pain, however a beating on one Christmas, had left a large scar on his back. The scar ran crookedly from his right shoulder to his coccyx bone and had dilated a dark red colour over time.

Chapter 1

23 June 1989

7:30 am, 12 hours before the incident.

"Freak! Get up now! You don't want to ruin this day now do you!", Harry groaned and grudgingly opened his eyes. He reached over to the bedside stand to pick up his glasses and before realising too late that he didn't need his glasses anymore, as his inability to see clearly had disappeared overnight on his tenth birthday; he banged his head off of the slanted roof above his head. 'Son of a Bitch' he thought whilst rubbing his head 'Stupid stairs'.

On top of the beatings and mental abuse, Harry was forced to spend most of his time locked up underneath the stairs in a cupboard. This cupboard also acted as Harry's bedroom or 'hovel 'as he mockingly called it. The 'hovel' was becoming increasingly small for Harry as like many other things, his height had taken a great increase on his 10th birthday.

Harry's 10th birthday had been by far, the strangest but best birthday he had ever had. The reasons being were the sudden changes that suddenly engulfed both his physical and mental state. The easiest spotted physical change being his incredible surge in height, weight and strength. At a grand height of 5ft 5, Harry became a physically imposing character and not one to be crossed with. However this did not relieve the physical abuse being brought onto him from his Aunt and Uncle, who had clearly broken the boy. His newfound ability to see clearly, without the help of his glasses did cheer him up however, as this meant that he could not be teased by Dudley and his gang.

Another change in Harry, was that he began to feel powerful and with that came a lot of anger. This anger was, more than once, vented upon his classmates in school. Once Harry became annoyed or angry and his voice began to crackle, Harry's hand began to feel very warm and often spark; much to Harry's shock. The initial shock of discovering that he had powers was quickly replaced by hours and hours of endless enjoyment and practice. Often when venting anger, Harry's voice would begin to crackle; something that was greatly amusing to Dudley and his gang, who found themselves quickly unconscious and with slightly burnt hair.

His school marks had degraded in importance dramatically since his 10th birthday, as he found himself always distracted by the female population of the school. He started feeling weird around them and often got butterflies in his stomach when talking to them; it didn't help him that he caught most of them staring hungrily at him, before turning away and blushing furiously.

Harry was suddenly interrupted in his train of thought by his ill-tempered Uncle "C'mon Boy, get your lanky ass out here NOW!". 'Shite' Harry thought, before jumping out of bed and whacking his head off of the low-lying roof, once again. "Agh…" he groaned before rubbing his yet again, pulsing head.

Giving himself a shock, to awaken himself with his powers, Harry carefully opened his door and hurried into the kitchen. In the kitchen awaiting Harry, was a very pissed of looking Aunt and Uncle.

"You know the drill, get started on the breakfast and make it EXTRA quick!" shouted a sneering Uncle Vernon.

After internally sighing, Harry set too work making breakfast for the Dursley's. He always internally joked that it should be called a 'break-feast', due to the incredibly large amounts of food that are consumed by his Uncle Vernon and Dudley.

* * *

Whilst making the 'break-feast', Harry watched as an ecstatic Dudley came bounding down the stairs and let his parents smoother him with their affection, before turning his attention to the large pile of presents, sitting in front of the fireplace. In a split second, Dudley's ecstatic smile shifted to one of outrage. "How many presents is there Father?" he enquired. His Father responded cheerfully "12, I counted them my self". The smile on Harry's Uncle Vernon's face immediately disappeared as Dudley bellowed in outrage "12! 12! Are joking Father?! That's less than a third of the presents I received last year! What are you thinking?!".

Harry was watching this argument with great satisfaction from his place in the kitchen and was smirking quite cheerfully until his Aunt Petunia had to ruin the fun "Oh Diddykinns. No. The reason for such little amount of gifts is that we have one big one for you..". 'This will be great' thought Harry, sarcastically as his Aunt continued "Were all going to be travelling to... FRANCE!".

In the whole time Harry had been living with the Dursley's, he had never seen Dudley so happy. From the moment the word 'France' was mentioned, Dudley had a large smile plastered onto his face. It was a well known fact in 4 Privet Drive that Dudley had always dreamt that he could go to France and meet the French rugby team.

* * *

Dudley and his Parents were so happy, that they didn't even notice the slightly burnt 'break-feast' or Harry stealing a fair deal of the food from the table and as the details of the trip were confirmed. To Harry, this was a good sign, as he had expected to be punished for waking up late. The good mood of the Dursley's was beginning to transfer to Harry, as he saw the opportunity to ask if he would be joining them on this trip.

"Pardon me, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. I would just like to ask whether or not, I will be joining you on this trip?" Enquired Harry, in the most polite manner he could.

"Of course _boy_, who do you think will be carrying our luggage?" hissed Vernon "Now off, with you. Go and pack our bags!".

* * *

11 hours, three long trips in a car and one train ride saw Harry Potter in a very unusual state of anger and denial. After working up the courage once again to ask his Aunt and Uncle the one question that had been troubling him since the day he could speak. "What happened to my Mother and Father, Uncle?"

"Insolent BRAT!" came the reply from Harry's Uncle, who jumped out of his chair and slapped Harry hard across his upper cheekbone. Normally this would have sent Harry into hysterics, but Harry had been cooked up in inside himself for all of his life and had, had enough. Clearly, something in Harry had snapped that day because as soon as Vernon's hand touched Harry's face, all hell broke loose in the apartment.

Harry jumped up from his spot on the chair, fists raised and voice cracking like sparks. "Insolence! INSOLENCE! EH!" Roared Harry threateningly "I'll show you Insolence!

And Insolence he showed, quickly punishing his Uncle, using his left fist smashing with all its might his lower jaw and his right fist, charged with green sparks, jabbing him in the chest and burning the mound of flesh covering his ribcage. The sudden jolt of electricity flowing through Harry's uncle, caused him to quickly grow limp and lifeless.

With a growing smirk on Harry's face, he dropped his Uncle and turned towards his hysterical Aunt and Cousin and began to laugh maniacally. "Not so powerful now, huh? Still think I'm a freak?". Instead of waiting for an answer Harry picked up a knife and charged it with sparks, before throwing it expertly at his Cousin's neck.

Harry once again laughed maniacally and turned his attention to the screaming Aunt Petunia. "You're a freak! You hear me! A FREAK, just like your Mother and Father. You're all Fre-" Harry didn't give her the chance to finish. Instead, he grabbed her by the neck and sent as much electricity as he could, into her, draining all the power out of Harry as he threw her to the ground like a rag-doll.

Harry slowly made his way over to the comfortable looking armchair and upon reaching it, laughed maniacally once again, much like an evil villain in the movies. His mind relaying what had just happened moments ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey Guys! Wassup? I'm really sorry about not posting quickly, and not posting a lot. Life has just gotten fucked up and I'm really busy now, however I'm still continuing with the story! And I still need suggestions! KEEP REVIEWING !

Also, check the last chapter for some fixes.

I also changed the rating of the story to M, is that ok with everyone?

enjoy!

Due to a request, I'll JUST WARN YOU THAT IN THIS CHAPTER THERE WILL BE INDICATIONS OF RAPE, however this may be the only chapter with this warning!

* * *

Chapter 2

Revenge,

Revenge, is the action of inflicting hurt or harm on someone for a wrong suffered at their hands.

Revenge, is what 10 year old Harry Potter believes is his to use.

Revenge, is not tossed around, it is dealt.

Revenge, is a sweet thing.

Whilst in a bar a week after the Incident, Harry had seen a news report, detailing the find of his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin's dead bodies. As language had been a barrier, Harry didn't understand much of what was being said. However he understood that they were looking for a boy of his description, so after hearing this, Harry decided to change his appearance.

Stealing a pair of nerdy-looking black glasses and popping the lenses out of them, Harry set off to the hairdressers, with the little money that he had been able to steal from his Uncle.

The hairdressers that Harry arrived at was in a run down part of Paris and was the perfect place to change his appearance. The hairdresser itself was a cute looking place, which brightened up the street a-little and as Harry walked in, a cheerful looking young lady appeared from another door. After the usual French greetings, Harry (with a lot of hand pointing at a picture on the ceiling) persuaded the lady to dye his hair dark red.

* * *

Breathe in. *Bang*

Breathe in. *Bang*

Breathe in. *Bang*

Harry's dreams were invaded by something dark. Something that had chosen Harry's birthday as its time to be born and like a chord under too much pressure, Harry snapped.

Groaning inwardly, Harry Potter stood up. This was a new Harry Potter, he was tall, strong, had dark red hair, wore glasses with no lenses and was on the run from the police. Today was his 11th birthday and he had decided to treat himself.

Having been on the run from the police for just over a month, Harry had picked up a few skills from local tradesman and other squatters. Language had been a barrier at the start but Harry had been quick to learn and could now converse for a short amount of time in French.

The treat Harry had promised himself was his biggest raid yet. A short trip down from the house he was squatting in would bring Harry to the luxury estate in which he was planning his raid. Harry had been planning this raid ever since he laid eyes on the estate. Everything about it screamed 'rich', the cars, the houses and the people.

The raid itself was simple; wait for the owner of a house to walk by, pickpocket the key and bobs your uncle, the house is Harry's.

However, this raid was easier said than done. As it would be suspicious if someone looking as ragged as Harry was, was walking around in an expensive looking estate.

So for the past two days, Harry had been looking for an empty house to live in, so that he could clean himself up good. He managed to acquire a cute-looking townhouse, that was a few blocks away from the raid target. In the house he found some clothes that fit almost perfectly and some food and drinks which he could ration for weeks. Harry also had his first bath in a month, which was a very happy moment for himself.

It was now 7am, an hour before the raid. A perfect time to once again, scope out the target. The target house, was the biggest in the estate, the grand jewel. In the time Harry had been watching it, he had only seen one person enter it; a stern looking man, who could use a good shave.

Harry had only spotted the man, at the house, on the weekends. So he suspected that the man would be leaving early on Monday morning.

Putting on his glasses, tidying up his unruly hair and picking up his backpack, Harry set off towards the estate, leaving the house in the same condition he had found it in; although a few euros short.

Walking into the estate, Harry's breath was once again taken away from him. The beauty of every house was unmatched by any he had seen in England; perfectly cut lawns, picturesque views of Paris and the cute parks scattered in-between.

Harry walked in circles for a couple of minutes before stopping at a park. He lazily swung on a swing, waiting for the door of house 12 to open.

Minute after minute passed and Harry began to wonder wether he should turn back and try again another day. He thought this until the door of house 12 began to open and sure enough, out popped the stern-looking man.

Harry's mind raced into action as he started walking toward the man, who was conveniently walking towards Harry. Harry, looking as innocent as he could, performed his basic pickpocketing technique of, 'tripping over a crack in the ground'. This technique required the victim to be gullible enough to help Harry up and Harry's sleight of hand to be up to scratch.

Sure enough, Harry's acting was good enough to fool the man into helping him, as the man quickly ran over to help Harry up. Pickpocketing the man was easy for Harry and he was quickly off towards the house.

Quickly checking for any other security measures, Harry entered the house with no trouble at all and once inside he began searching for anything compact and valuable.

The inside of the house was a completely different story from the outside; it was dark, dusty and old. There wasn't a TV or a radio in sight, brooms were scattered on the floor, pictures were facing the wall and the furniture looked like it was from the sixties and weirdest of all were the shaped sticks that were all polished and mounted over a fireplace.

This house was not what Harry was expecting and he wasn't pleased. In fact he was en route to leave the house and had it not been for the glimmer of sunlight reflecting of a shining gold key sitting on a table, Harry would have been out of there quicker than a blink of an eye.

The key almost glowed brightly in the dark house as Harry picked it up and at its touch, sent shivers down Harry's back.

It was as if curiosity itself had possessed Harry as he bounded around the house looking for the lock that partnered the key.

* * *

Much to Harry's frustration, the lock was no where too be found on the ground and first floors. His only hope was that the second floor held a hidden treasure behind a locked door.

Walking up the creaking stairs, Harry began to hear a faint, muffled sound of crying; and as if a switch as been flicked, Harry crouched low to the ground and slowly began towards a suspicious looking door at the end of the corridor.

Walking up the creaking stairs, Harry began to hear a faint, muffled sound of crying; and as if a switch as been flicked, Harry crouched low to the ground and slowly began towards a suspicious looking door at the end of the corridor.

With every step he took, Harry's heart beat faster, the urge to charge head first into the room was almost unbearable and after some more gruelling seconds that tested his almost non-existent patience, Harry reached the door. The crying became louder and Harry was sure that the culprit was inside. His conscience was screaming at him to turn back and bail, but the crying brought back memories of being treated badly by the Dursleys and made Harry's curiosity grow even further.

Trying to be as quiet as a mouse, Harry inserted the key, slowly turning it in the stiff lock. After a full revolution had been completed, thee was no click as Harry had been expecting. Instead, there was brief flash of red light coming from the keyhole. '_What the fuck was that? This house is fucking creepy!_'

It lasted a second but Harry was sure that whoever had been inside of the room had seen it as well, as the crying had stopped.

'_Oh Shit! Now I've done it! Maybe I can just peek inside, then make a run for it._'

After debating inside of his head for a moment, Harry decided to sneak-a-peek, seeing as the crying had resumed. Opening the door slowly and silently, Harry peeked inside and gasped a little too loud, before falling face first on the floor.

The scene inside would give Harry nightmares for the rest of his life.

There. Inside of the locked room. Stood a lone bed, in need of a good wash. The bed held one occupant tied from each limb in a spread eagle form, sobbing her eyes out, whilst as naked as the day she was born.

If the high attractive figure of a naked girl, who looked about 15 didn't scare the life out of Harry, then the bruises and blood scattered over her body did.

Harry's body didn't know whether to be aroused, sad or sick, so naturally he puked and blew away his cover.

* * *

The girl instantly stopped crying and tried to see what the noise was, whimpering she looked at the door, expecting her father, but instead met dazzling emerald eyes. Sapphire met Emerald. Whimpering again, she looked away, she knew that the boy was going to hurt her, all men did.

* * *

Harry's eyes began to tear up, his hair crackled, his muscles flexed and his hands began to crackle with electricity. He was mad.

'_How could someone do this?! This is disgusting! Revolting! Inhumane! Fucking sickening! I wasn't even treated this bad!_'

Slowly, Harry managed to calm himself down, trying to avoid scaring the girl again. He reached into his sock and pulled out his trusty knife, he then raised his hands slowly and gestured that he meant no harm. The girl whimpered at the sight of the knife but then registered the gesture.

Harry then slowly got to his feet and made his way over to the girl, he tried to once again contain his anger but failed as the knife began conducting the electricity and crackled. The girl whimpered at the sight and started thrashing in her constraints.

Not trusting his voice, Harry grabbed the rope attached to her leg and ripped through it with his knife, which was still crackling. He repeated the process with the other restraints and watched and the girl, as quick as she could, ran into the corner of the room, cradling herself into a ball and shaking uncontrollably.

Harry, once again, started crying. He felt so sorry for the girl and knew that she was scared of him. He slowly dropped the knife and made his way over to her. On reaching her, he gradually moved his hand forward to try and touch her uncontrollably shaking hand. The girl quickly shrieked and pulled her hand away, once again starting to cry.

Harry's heart broke in two at the sight. "It's ok" he said softly in rough French, "I don't want to hurt you...I promise." He held out his pinkie as a sign of his promise.

The girl, still crying, started at the gesture. "If it helps...I was actually in here to steal some stuff?" Harry admitted, trying to calm the girl down.

She gave a snort of amusement, which then turned into giggling, then full blown laughter. Harry recognised this as the crazy-stage of rehab, where you were unable to understand what was happening and your emotions all randomly took control of your body. The girl then started crying, then threw herself onto an unsuspecting Harry Potter, who fell back onto the floor, bewildered. The girl who was straddling him, began to kiss him sloppily on the cheek, many times over, shouting out her thanks for saving her from le monstre.

Harry, confused as to what the hell had just happened, stood up. He helped the girl up and once up, the girl snuggled into his right arm, making it immobile. He was unsure of what to say. What could he say? He supposed that she should at least know the name of her saviour.

"Ermm, Ok...well my name is Harry Potter. What's yours?" Harry said, now trusting his tongue to speak French.

The girl gasped, still not letting go of his arm. "Ha-Ha-Harry P-Potter" she squeaked in a very soft, but scared voice.

"Y-Yes...what's yours?"

The girl squeaked "I'm F-Fleur, Fleur Delacour".


End file.
